Under My Skin
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: A gauntlet thrown, a choice to make, take a leap or sit back and regret a chance not taken.
1. Chapter 1

I put my glass down and stand, watching Donna's hips sway hypnotically as she walks to the elevator. I take a deep breath; part of me can't help but wonder if I'm reading this situation correctly. I couldn't have misunderstood this, right? The look she was giving me, coming over to sit next to me, her voice so soft and determined…

The hell with it. If I'm wrong, then I'll deal with being shot down, but I'm not going to let this opportunity slip through my fingers again.

I grab my suit jacket and hurry over to her, reaching her just as she pushes the "up" button for the elevator. She doesn't say anything as I stand next to her; she only looks up, watching for the light to indicate that our ride has arrived.

I wish I knew where to put my hands. I want to touch her—desperately, actually—but I don't know the protocol for the moment. I don't know if we're just keeping this low-key but obvious like everyone else that's paired off for the night, or if we're just not going to publically acknowledge it at all. I don't want to look like we're heading off for a roll in the hay if she doesn't want anyone to know what we're doing.

How can she look so blasé right now? Her face gives nothing away. In fact, she looks down-right innocent. I can't help but study her profile, though; she's stunning. She's always been stunning, but this feels like the first time I've really been able to appreciate it. Those crazy long eyelashes, her aquiline nose, the full, pink lips, so shiny and kissable.

Not that I've had much experience with kissing her. Just that one time, actually, but it was amazing. It was enough to know I wanted more. I want to do it right now, in front of the hotel employees, rogue campaign staffers, and the security cameras, but…I just don't know how to read the moment.

My thoughts are interrupted by a quiet _ping_ and the elevator doors opening, the inside mercifully empty. Donna steps inside, tucking herself into the corner, watching me. I try to calm my nerves and follow her, hoping my hand doesn't shake too much as I press the button for my floor. I keep my eyes focused on the display, watching the floor numbers slowly rise, and lean against the wall next to her, one hand mostly behind her, braced against the corner, my jacket strategically draped over my arm, covering the front of my pants. I'm aware I'm on the verge of becoming very obviously eager, but I don't exactly want the world at large to know it. She presses against my side subtly; we could probably pass for having a private conversation, but her proximity is making my head spin.

I can actually smell her shampoo. Other than being aware that she usually smells great and even though I have no idea what sort of perfume she wears, I can always tell when she's around, I don't know if I've ever noticed this particular fact before. But there it is, her hair so close to my face that it wouldn't take much at all for me to turn my head and bury my face in it.

I've never wanted to do that before in my life.

I glance over at her; she's watching the numbers tick up, too. How can she be so calm about this? We're about to have sex for the first time. This is _huge_. I feel like I'm going to hyperventilate and she looks like she's about to go for a leisurely stroll in the park.

The elevator _pings_ again, the doors sliding open a moment later. I slide my hand to Donna's back, gently ushering her out into the hallway. It seems to be deserted, but I don't know that I care if anyone sees us together like this. I'm more concerned with someone seeing me and coming up with a dozen questions to ask, managing to ruin this whole thing with Donna.

She keeps her pace slow, and it occurs to me that maybe she doesn't know which room is mine or that it's literally around the corner from elevator—a better thought than her actually dragging her feet. I dig out my wallet, trying valiantly for a few seconds to fumble one-handed for the key before I reluctantly take my hand off her back. Now that we've been in contact, I hate to lose that connection. I'd rather nothing snap her back to reality and make her rethink this decision.

She stands patiently next to me as we reach my door, and I shove my wallet back in my pocket as I attempt to figure out which end is up for the stupid key card. For the life of me, I can't find the arrows it's supposed to have to let me know which way to stick it in. I hope this isn't some sort of sick metaphor for my upcoming encounter with Donna.

Her fingers slide through mine, nearly making me jump out of my skin. I look up at her, startled, and she just gives me a gentle smile, squeezing my hand just a little. It unnerves me and throws me even further off my game…and somehow manages to ground me enough to figure out how to unlock the door. I take a deep breath and push the card into the slot—forcing myself not to think of it as a disgusting simile—and hold the door open for her. She squeezes my hand again before letting it go, slipping past me into the room. My eyes immediately drop down to her ass, snapping away a moment later. It hits me slowly that ogling her is actually okay at this point and allow myself to stare.

She comes to a stop in the middle of the room and I force myself out of my stupor long enough to follow her in, the door clicking shut behind me a few seconds later. I take a few steps toward her, and she tosses her sweater onto the bed. My heart is pounding out of control, and I throw my suit jacket to the side, aiming for one of the chairs and probably missing completely. I have no idea what to do right now. I want to touch her. I'm assuming that I can, but I'm ridiculously nervous. Her back is still to me. It takes me a few tries but I finally manage to reach out and put my hand lightly on her hip. Her entire body tenses. Before I can pull away, though, she turns to face me. Her face is mostly in shadow, the only light coming from the bathroom, which I must have left on hours ago.

She stares at me for a few moments, her eyes glittering in the low light. All I can hear is the sound of us breathing, and my heart pounding in my ears. By some unspoken agreement, we step toward each other. Her arms wrap around my neck as I slide my hands around her waist. I can see her lick her lips, then feel her breath hit my face as we take another step closer. I lean in a fraction, our mouths a breath apart, and we both pause for just a moment. My heart pounds even harder.

I'm not sure if she leans in, if it's me, or if we do it together, but our lips press together and I feel a surge rocket through my body. We've only kissed that one time, and, unbelievably, it was weeks ago. Now that our lips are meeting again, I'm not sure how I've managed to put it off for this long. It's gentle right now—tentative, a little hesitant. We're like two kids sharing their first kiss. Then her head tilts, mine automatically going in the opposite direction. Her body molds against mine, her lips part, the kiss deepens, and I feel myself falling into her. I can taste the scotch we were just drinking on her tongue. I briefly wonder if she's drunk and if I'm somehow taking advantage of her, but then I remember that none of us had been in the lounge for that long, and that I'm fairly certain she didn't finish all of her wine or even the scotch.

She makes a little noise, and I nearly tear away from her before I realize it's a good noise. Her arms tighten around me, and one of her hands slides through my hair. I think my entire body erupts in goosebumps. I grab onto her hips and steer her backward, guiding her gracelessly toward the bed. I wish I had more finesse right now, but…we're adults. We both know why we're here.

I feel her start to collapse onto the bed and I follow her, reluctant to release her lips. I feel like I could kiss her forever.

I sit down beside her, my body turned awkwardly as I try to figure out how to position myself without crawling immediately on top of her. She tugs me closer, her lower leg crossing over mine, her high heel-covered foot rubbing against my calf. One of my hands releases its death grip on her waist and slides down her side. I pause at her thigh, stroking her carefully through her skirt. My hand continues its journey until I get to the back of her knee, and I haul her leg over my lap. I'm fairly certain she smiles against my mouth for a few seconds, but the sensation of her body pressing closer to mine erases all other thought from my brain. I run my hand down the rest of her leg and grab her shoe, pulling it off her foot and tossing it across the room.

Our lips finally part and we both gasp for air. She stares at me, though it's hard to read her expression in the mostly dark room. I can see her chest heaving, hear her breathing noisily, and I run my tongue over the roof of my mouth, still able to taste her there. She shifts a little, her leg disappearing for just a moment until I suddenly have both of them on my lap. I can see the corner of her mouth quirk up a little, her leg tapping against mine. I take the hint and grab her other shoe, tossing it in the direction of its mate. Her smile grows and she leans back on her hands. It's probably my imagination, but I'd swear she sticks her chest out at me. I actually lick my lips as I stare at her. I slide my hand back up her leg, just a little amazed to realize she's wearing pantyhose, and then even more amazed that I'm touching Donna like this.

My fingers reach the hem of her skirt, and I let out a long breath. I feel like I should be able to do this, but part of me is still waiting for her to come to her senses and shove me away. I glance up at her face to find her studying me. I only hesitate for another moment before my hand disappears under her skirt. I lean toward her and press my mouth against her neck. Her skin is so soft and warm, and I swear I can feel her pulse pounding beneath my lips. My hand wanders a little farther up her leg. My mouth continues its journey, sliding down to her chest, kissing the exposed skin there, before moving up her throat. I want to consume her. I want to devour her whole. I want her more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life.

I feel one of her hands on the back of my neck, tugging at me. I lift my head and she smiles a little, tilting her head down to mine. Our lips meet again, and even though I feel so frantic for more of her that I'm tempted to tear every scrap of clothing from her body, I force myself to keep it slow. Her hands go to the tie around my neck, pulling at it for a few seconds before I feel it come loose, making a quiet _swish_ sound as she yanks it from under my collar. It disappears somewhere behind us. Even though it's only a tie, it makes all of this feel a bit more real. It won't be long before we're actually naked…before I see miles and miles of Donna's skin.

My body reacts painfully at the thought of it, and since she's halfway sitting on my lap, I'm sure she's aware of it.

I feel her fingers working on the buttons of my shirt, moving quickly, determinedly, tugging the tails out of my pants, and I reluctantly take my hand from under her skirt. I shrug the shirt away, suddenly thankful that I'd rolled up my sleeves hours ago and don't have to worry about more buttons. I wrap my arms around her, taking a chance and guiding her down until we're both lying on the bed—her mostly on her back, me on my side—and I pull back for just a moment. The faint light coming in from between the curtains illuminates pieces of her, and my eyes have adjusted to the dark, making everything less of a mystery. Her tongue darts out between her lips, and I stifle a groan. I shift closer to her, holding onto her legs to keep them draped over mine. One of her hands comes up and strokes through my hair. This time, I can't hide the groan that escapes me. I press my lips to hers again, kissing her harder than before. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I rest one of my hands on her hip. She shifts closer to me; I run my hand up and side a little, the soft material of her shirt bunching and shifting beneath my fingers. I try not to let myself hesitate before I slide my hand beneath her shirt. It takes everything I have not to collapse on her. Her skin is unbelievably soft. I've never felt anything like it. Her cashmere sweater doesn't hold a candle to how the rest of her feels.

Her hands pull at my t-shirt, and I break away from her, yanking it over my head and shoving it to the end of the bed. She bites her lip a little, her fingers delicately tracing patterns over my skin. Everything she touches feels like it's on fire. I reach down and push her shirt up a little, exposing the pale skin of her stomach. While I'm sure I've seen her stomach at some point in our relationship, it's not been anything like this. At the moment, it's the most erotic thing I've ever seen. I shift a little, dropping my face down to meet her skin, my lips nipping and sucking at every inch I can reach. I can feel her muscles tightening beneath me, her hands going to my head to hold me in place. As if I have anywhere I need to go.

Her hands disappear a few moments later, and I glance up at her. Her arms cross and she grabs at the hem of her shirt, and I can't help but push myself up, watching the garment disappear. My mouth goes dry. I think I stop breathing. She's not even naked yet and I don't think I'm going to survive the assault. "Jesus," I whisper, staring unabashedly at her chest. The bra is simple—it's white or something equally as light, with lace trim, but her breasts look like they're about to spill over the cups. This is definitely nothing of hers I've ever seen before.

* * *

Here it is—part one of one half of the side-by-side I wrote a while back and have been trying to edit and not completely rewrite. The other one is, obviously, from Donna's POV. If anyone has any thoughts as to whether they'd like to read all of Josh's first or if you'd like me to post the equivalent of Donna's before going any further, let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

I lift my hand, not terribly shocked to see that it's trembling a little, and drop it to just over one of her breasts, looking up at her at the last second for confirmation. Even in the low light, I can tell her eyelids are at half-mast. She's breathing heavily. She doesn't say anything, but I watch in fascination as she arches her back, her chest thrusting toward me. I take a deep breath, lowering my hand that last few millimeters. I trace my fingertips over her carefully, mesmerized. Her skin is even softer here. I lower my head to her other breast, pressing a gentle kiss to it. I hear her gasp softly, but her fingers thread through my hair again, keeping me in place. I shift a little; her legs slide off mine. We readjust ourselves so that she's completely on her back and I'm mostly on top of her. My mouth and hand move over her with less caution. I kiss and touch every inch I can find. This is blowing my mind. These are Donna's breasts beneath my lips. I groan and bury my face between them, breathing deeply. I dart my tongue out, tasting the faint saltiness of her skin. I slide my hands under her back, massaging the tense muscles I find there, hooking my fingers under the straps of her bra. I give them a little tug, feeling them drop off her shoulders.

My senses are completely overwhelmed right now. I want her naked. I want to ravage her. I want to be buried so deep within her that we meld into one person. This is happening. This is really happening. I suck at her skin a little harder, focusing my attention on one breast at a time, nudging at the cups of her bra with my nose. My hands wander down her back again, finding the clasp, and I fiddle with it, trying to get my fingers to cooperate.

Without warning, she slides out from under me, sitting up. Shit. _Shit_. What did I do? How do I fix it? I sit up, too, my mouth opening and closing as I try to form sentences…try to figure out how to apologize for fucking this up already. "Donna…" is all I manage to get out.

She turns to look at me, her eyes wide, and I finally realize she's still breathing heavily. She puts her hand on my cheek and leans in, kissing me softly. Then she stands, adeptly repositioning her bra straps over her shoulders. She reaches around, grabbing at what I presume is the zipper of her skirt. She looks over her shoulder at me, and I can see her giving me a vaguely sheepish smile. "My skirt's getting wrinkled."

I have no idea if that's a line or if she's genuinely concerned with the state of her clothes, but I jump up, gently moving her hands out of the way. It takes more fumbling than I'm comfortable admitting but I manage to work the zipper loose and the skirt falls silently to the floor, pooling at her feet. I take a step closer to her, so close that not a sheet of paper could fit between us, but so that we're not actually touching. My hands come up to her shoulders, just barely tracing over her exposed skin. I can feel her shudder a little but she says nothing, letting me continue my exploration. My hands smooth over her back, touching a little harder now. I lean forward, sweeping her hair out of the way, and press my lips to the nape of her neck She tilts her head to give me better access. I run my fingers down her sides, feeling her jump a little, until I get to her hips. I grab onto them and pull her against me, moaning when her ass comes into contact with my groin.

Her hands rest on top of mine for a few moments before she grabs onto my fingers and pulls my arms around her waist. I stroke the skin of her stomach, my fingers meeting the edge of her pantyhose. She steps out of my arms just a moment later, smiling at me over her shoulder. "My skirt's still getting wrinkled," she says, her voice low and throaty. Before I can respond, she bends down and retrieves it; I have to close my eyes for a few seconds at the view she gives me. She stands and shakes the garment, laying it gently at the foot of the bed. When she turns to face me, I lose all ability to speak, hell, to even think. Donna Moss is standing in front of me in her underwear. She's sexy as hell.

She reaches out suddenly, her hands at my belt buckle, and I feel my eyes grow wide. She tugs a few times and it comes loose, her nimble fingers working on the button immediately after. She grabs the tab of my fly and my hand clamps on her wrist, stopping her. I don't know that I'll be able to handle even the lightest of touches from her at the moment. She lifts an eyebrow at me but lets it go, letting me unzip my own pants. I kick off my shoes while I'm at it, hastily toeing off my socks, too, before yanking off my pants and tossing them somewhere toward the foot of the bed.

I hear her inhale sharply, and I follow her gaze to my tented boxers. Every instinct in me wants to explain it away—tell her that it's just one of those guy things and we get boners for no reason sometimes and please don't throw a sexual harassment suit at me—until I get my brain to calm down enough to remember that this is the whole point of tonight. She's supposed to know how much she turns me on. She takes a tentative step toward me, and my erection just barely comes into contact with the edge of her panties. The only thing that stops me from exploding everywhere is the thin layer of cotton from my own underwear. I've _got_ to calm myself down before this turns into the worst decision of her life. I'm a middle-aged man for crying out loud—I can do better.

I reach out and run my finger over the top of her pantyhose, watching her muscles twitch beneath my touch. "Are these the expensive ones?" I ask, my voice coming out a lot steadier than I expected.

She looks surprised at the question, not that I blame her. The only reason I know there are expensive pantyhose and cheap ones is because at some point in my past, I've had to replace the pricey ones. That was after wandering into the nearest drugstore and buying the first thing I saw, then getting yelled at for not knowing the difference. As a result, any time I happen to encounter these things and it looks like I might at all be in charge of them, I ask questions.

"No," she whispers, and I yank at them immediately. The delicate material catches and tears beneath my fingers. I drop to my knees as I tug them down her legs; she braces her hands on my shoulders as she steps out of them. All other thought escapes me as I realize where my face is. I take a deep breath, getting a whiff of what can only be Donna's arousal. God help me, but my mouth actually waters. I lean forward and grab her hips again, pressing my mouth to her stomach. I drag my teeth across her skin carefully, and she actually whimpers. I look up at her; her eyes are closed and she's biting her lip. Her fingers slide through my hair, holding me in place.

I want her so bad. I'm torn between wanting to act out every fantasy and desire I've had for the last almost nine years, and throwing her on the bed and losing myself inside of her without any preamble.

Both have their merits. If this is my only chance to do this, I don't want to waste it by jumping right to sex. On the other hand, if this is my only chance to do this, I don't want to miss my window of opportunity.

I maneuver myself to a crouch, moving my lips over her as I slowly stand, burying my face between her breasts again. It turns out that I can't get enough of them. I can hear her chuckle softly, her hands sliding under my arms. Her fingers press into my back, touching everywhere she can reach. I find the clasp of her bra again and hesitate, waiting to see if she's going to pull away from me again. She only sighs and I relocate to her neck, sucking carefully at the delicate flesh there. I manage to get her bra unhooked and it goes slack in my hands. My heart starts to pound even faster, and I pull the scrap of material with me as I straighten up. Her arms drop, the bra sliding down them, and one or both of us toss it on the bed. I feel my jaw drop. I've seen naked women before—of course I have. I've even seen them in person on more than one occasion. None of them hold a candle to this woman, this goddess, standing before me. She's not even completely bare yet and I know nothing will ever compare. I also know this is the point of no return. Not that it's sex or bust, but that up until this moment, we could probably find some way back to being just friends. Seeing another person in their underwear feels intimate, but it's ultimately not that different than seeing someone in a bathing suit…not that I've seen Donna in a lot of bathing suits. Or any at all, for that matter. But now…this…this is crossing a line. I can't unsee this. I don't _want_ to unsee it.

My hands lift of their own volition, coming up to gently stroke the sides of her breasts. I watch her entire body shudder in response. My thumbs rub carefully over her nipples, and I can feel them harden into magnificent little peaks. She whimpers again but doesn't stop me. She stands still, watching me, allowing me to explore her body. I'm happy to return the favor, but I don't think mine will be nearly as interesting. Before I can stop myself, I lean forward and suck one of her nipples into my mouth, my eyes closing in bliss. I switch to the other one a few moments later, finding it to be just as delicious as its mate.

She pushes at me, dislodging my mouth, and I miss her already. Before I can protest, she grabs my face and pulls me in, her mouth finding mine, kissing me hard. Who am I to refuse? I wrap my arms around her, kissing her back with as much force as I can. Her hands maneuver between us, her nails scratching at my chest. My entire body reacts violently. Her hands keep moving and I suddenly feel her fingers hook in the waistband of my boxers, tugging them down. I feel my erection spring free, and it's a relief to be out of the increasingly binding shorts. She presses herself a little closer, leaving my underwear to rest low on my hips, and the friction the lace of her panties creates against my overly-sensitive skin nearly does me in.

I can feel her smile against my lips. One of her hands snakes between us again. I jump about a foot off the ground as her fingers just barely graze over my erection. I am not going to make it. I push myself into her touch anyway, desperate for more of it. Her entire hand wraps around me, pumping me slowly, and I moan loudly into her mouth. I've never felt anything like this in my life. I'm completely on edge right now.

She breaks away from me, and I can feel her heavy breathing against my skin. I open my eyes, not surprised to find her face centimeters from mine. Her hand moves in steady strokes, creating jolts of pleasure that run rampant through my body. She smiles again, tearing her gaze from mine, her eyes wandering down my body, and I have a sudden rush of nerves. This is another point of no return, and I feel very self-conscious. Her form is absolutely breathtaking, and her breasts are where I want to worship for all eternity, but the naked male body—especially when fully aroused—can look a little goofy. I can't help but feel insecure about everything, wishing suddenly that I'd been doing more sit-ups, or taking time to run a few extra miles on a treadmill, and wondering if she'll approve of my equipment. Were it not for her hand's steady movements, I'd be deflating right now.

She moans a little, her free hand wrapping around my back, her head resting on my shoulder, her gaze still aimed downward. "What?" I ask, my voice catching in my throat.

She makes another noise and presses her face into my neck, her lips and teeth sucking and scraping at me. "I've never been with a Jewish guy before," she whispers, her fingers tracing carefully—almost lovingly—over the tip.

My fuzzy brain tries to play catch-up, figuring out what that's supposed to mean, until I realize she means the whole circumcised thing. I want to tell her that I better be the _only_ Jewish guy she's ever with, but some tiny shred of commonsense tells me that I probably shouldn't go there. "I've been told we're better lovers than anyone else." That's not entirely true, though I think I read that somewhere at some point. Close enough.

She smiles against my skin again, her hand resuming its steady up and down movement. "Okay," she answers, taking my earlobe in her mouth.

Yeah, I'm dying.


	3. Chapter 3

I force myself into action, running my hands over her body. I pay special attention to her breasts again, taking time to hold them, feel them, knead them as gently as possible, roll her nipples between my fingers. I move one hand to the small of her back, pressing her close to me, and the other hand trails down her stomach. I run my fingers over the top edge of her panties before I slip them beneath the lacey materiel. She pumps me faster in anticipation. I move my fingers a little lower, groaning as I come into contact with her for the first time. "Holy shit," I grunt, feeling her body tremble beneath my touch. I lightly run one finger over her sensitive bundle of nerves, not sure if I can take much more. Then she arches her hips toward me.

"Yes," she breathes; either she likes what I'm doing or she's giving me permission to continue—maybe both—but I don't need much encouraging. My hand moves down a little more, and I bite my lip at the sensation—she is _insanely_ wet.

"Holy _shit_ ," I repeat. Without hesitating, I push a finger into her, almost collapsing when I feel how hot it is inside her body. I slide another finger in; she whimpers for a second before it turns into a sigh. She adjusts her stance a little, her legs opening a bit wider so I have more access, and I start to thrust my fingers in and out of her, her underwear forcing me to keep my hand close. This is incredible. She feels unbelievable. As awkward as we might look to an outsider right now—half wrapped around each other, groping each other frantically, faces buried in each other's necks—this is the best I've ever felt. She doesn't seem to be complaining, either. Actually, unless I'm completely out of it, she's moaning quietly but steadily into my skin.

Her nails dig into my back, then flex in time with the motions of my hand. Her hips start to thrust against mine—just a little, but it's enough to increase the friction against my erection at least ten-fold.

I breathe in deeply, my nose pressed against her neck. She actually smells incredible, a feat which should be impossible after having been hard at work for at least eighteen hours today. She moans again and I feel her head move. I lift my head, too, managing to meet her in the middle, kissing each other frantically. She releases me, lifting up onto her tiptoes, her arms wrapping around my neck. She holds on tightly; the feeling of her body pressed against mine is amazing and intense. I can't bring myself to take my hand out of her underwear. If it feels this incredible now, I can't even begin to imagine how the actual act is going to be with her. I'm not going to survive it. Her hands slide to my shoulders. Then she shoves me.

I land on the edge of the bed and blink in surprise, not quite sure what's happening. She looms over me, completely backlit by the glow from the bathroom, most of her in silhouette. I glance down at myself, vaguely acknowledging how absurd I look with my erection straining toward her. She leans toward me, resting her hands on either side of my hips, the tips of her breasts just barely brushing against my chest. Her face moves into close to mine, our noses touching slightly. "Do you have any condoms?" she breathes.

"Huh?" I ask, my foggy brain trying to keep up.

"Do you have any condoms?" When I don't answer, she looks a little uncertain. "I have some in my room. I can run and get them if—"

That snaps me out of it—the absolute last thing I want her to do is leave my room. I don't want anything from the outside world to interrupt us. "I have some! They're, you know…" I gesture toward the small set of drawers on the other side of the room. She nods and straightens, and I force myself to stand. I move on shaky legs to the bureau, yanking out one of the drawers to find my carryon bag. Almost immediately after I botched things with her a few weeks ago, I went out and bought condoms. I didn't know if we'd ever get to that place again, but I wanted to be prepared, just in case. As I locate the as-yet-unused box, it occurs to me that she said she has some in her room. I don't want to imagine the number of reasons she could have condoms on hand, and instead choose to believe she has them for the same reason I do—wishful thinking.

I turn back to her just in time to see her grab the edges of her panties and tug, shifting her hips back and forth a little to work them down her legs. I can only see her in profile, which makes it all the more tantalizing. She picks them up and places them on top of the rest of her clothes, and I actually rush at her, nearly knocking her over as I crush her to me. She's completely naked. Donna Moss is completely naked in my hotel room. This is insane. I toss the box of condoms on the bed and slide my hands over her body, reaching down to cup the smooth skin of her ass. She squeaks a little but presses herself into me.

"Take yours off, too," she commands, and I immediately release her, shoving my boxers down my legs. I grab them and toss them onto the bed, reaching for her again. She steps away ever so slightly and grabs the box of condoms, pulling it open and carefully pulling one out. Handing the box to me, she cocks her head. "Get on the bed."

I swear—I would do anything she tells me to. I climb onto the bed, tossing the box of condoms into the nightstand next to me. I settle myself against the headboard, eagerly awaiting whatever is going to happen next. She crawls next to me, pressing herself against my side. She buries her face in my neck, nibbling at me less than carefully, one of her hands grabbing onto my erection with surprising accuracy. I hiss and jump as her fingers stroke over the head, and I somehow stiffen even more. I hope she's planning on putting me out of my misery soon because I really don't think I can take much more of this.

I reach over and grab her leg, hauling it across my lap. She shifts with it, keeping her face against my neck for another few moments before completely settling across my thighs. There really isn't enough light to take her all in, but I rake my eyes over her body anyway. She really is blonde all over, which shouldn't surprise me. I guess I just never gave it that level of thought. She might be the first blonde I've ever been with—and hopefully, the _only_ blonde I'll ever be with.

She scoots closer, trapping my erection between us, and we both moan at the contact. I grab onto her ass and hold her tight against me, my hips thrusting automatically. She wraps her arms around me, our chests crushed together, and presses her lips to mine. There's nothing remotely slow or gentle about our kissing—our tongues are clashing frantically, fighting for dominance, our mouths are pressed hard enough against each other to leave bruises, our teeth nip and pull at every chance they get. She rubs herself against me and it makes my head spin. There's so much heat coming from her I feel like I'm going to catch on fire.

I slide one of my hands in between us. She jumps as my fingers make contact with her for a few seconds, and I can't help but move my fingertips over her insistently. It takes some creative maneuvering on my part after that, but I manage to slip my fingers into her again, shuddering at the feeling of her surrounding me. She gasps and drops her face to my shoulder, her hips rolling against my hand. I can hear her making soft noises. I hold her tighter with my other hand. All I'm doing right now is buying time for myself. I'm hoping to get her as close to an orgasm as possible so that when I blow my load like a horny teenager, maybe she won't feel like the whole experience was a letdown.

I curve my fingers inside of her and she sits up straight for a few seconds, her eyes wide, before her head falls back, her chest arching toward me. Her body tenses even as she pushes her hips against me. "Oh, my God, Josh," she moans. My mouth drops open and I stare at her, even though she can't see me right now, trying to remember to keep my hand moving. I think that's the first time she's said my name all night. My erection pulses and twitches painfully. I desperately need to hear her moan my name again. Repeatedly. I move my hand, trying to get the same reaction. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, and she lets out a long, high-pitched noise as she grinds herself into me. Close enough.

Her head snaps up and she leans forward, kissing me again. Just as suddenly, she pushes her hips back and I feel my fingers slide out of her body. She leans over toward the edge of the bed, holding the foil condom packet in between us a moment later. "You want me to do it?" she whispers. As much as I want to feel her hands on me again, I don't know that I'm equipped to handle it right now.

I shake my head and take it from her, forcing myself to breathe deeply a few times before I tear open the tiny package. I can't even look at her as I roll it over myself. My control is seriously about to snap at this point.

She pushes herself to her knees, scooting forward until she's hovering directly over me. I grab onto her hips, holding her in place for a moment. "Are you sure?" I manage to whisper. It would kill me—literally kill me—to stop right now, but if she has any doubts…we stop. I don't want to do this unless we're on the same page.

She looks a little taken aback but her hands come up to cup my face. "Yes." Her voice is steady, and her eyes stay locked with mine. I take a long, deep breath and help to guide her down. The tip of me slides into her and I grunt—I'm going to die. She shifts her hips and pulls back a little, then slides down a bit more. I tighten my grip on her hips but I let her do this right now. She can take all the time she needs to get adjusted. If left to my own devices, I would have buried myself in her completely and probably caused a lot of pain. She lifts up again and this time, when she drops back down, she goes all the way. She bites her lip as her eyes fall shut. Her thighs grip my sides though her body relaxes. I slide my arms around her, staring up at her in disbelief. I'm inside her. I'm _inside_ her. This is really happening.

I lean forward and kiss her clavicle, my tongue tracing over her delicate skin until I get to her throat. She shudders as I nip at her, her own arms wrapping around me. She shifts her body away from me a little, looking down at me, and she nods slightly. We both start to move, and it only takes a few seconds for us to find our rhythm. I think we spent too many years walking in sync for us to not have some sort of natural tempo.

She moves her hips slowly, staring at me. Her fingers clutch at me. I hold onto her tightly in response. This is nothing like I ever could have imagined. It's infinitely better. She's so tight around me, her body holding onto me like a vice. She feels even hotter now. I never want this moment to end.

She rocks back and forth, moving a little faster, and I grip onto her, trying to match her pace. I don't know that I can trust myself to last very long tonight. I bring one hand up to the back of her neck, pulling her head gently toward mine. I kiss her as I thrust into her; she moans into my mouth. How is this happening? After all this time, all this build up, we're finally here.

* * *

Sorry for the delay. I was prepping for a thing and had zero free time. Also, I probably could have posted the rest of the story as one chapter, but I decided to be an ass and break it into two pieces. You're welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

"Is this real?" I whisper as we break apart, lamenting to myself a moment later at how stupid I sound.

"I have no idea," she answers just as softly, and I blink in surprise. She looks as stunned as I feel. Our movements come to a halt suddenly and we stare at each other, breathing heavily. I push her hair over her shoulders, letting the ends of it run through my fingers. I don't know that I've ever really touched her hair before tonight. It's soft, and slides easily from my hand. It frames her face, reflecting what little light there is in the room and making her almost glow.

She smiles at me—not her full-blown, million teeth grin, but something softer. I can't help but smile in response, aware that I probably look like a madman right now, and pull her back to me, kissing her again. When she responds enthusiastically, I readjust my grip, moving my hands to her back, and I start thrusting again. She gasps, biting at my lip almost too roughly, but she matches my movements. I feel more in control of myself right now, though it's anyone's guess how long it'll last.

One of her arms wraps around my neck, and I feel her other hand brace on my knee. She breaks away from our kiss, arching her back. Her head falls backward and she lets out a long, loud moan. My gaze travels down her body, down to where our hips are pushing against each other frantically. There's not a whisper of space between us; I actually can't tell where I end and she begins, and the sight threatens to overwhelm me. It hits me as a deeper metaphor for our entire relationship—we're so thoroughly enmeshed in each other's lives that, despite almost a year away from each other, we're still part of one another. We don't need full sentences or sometimes any words at all to understand each other. We've had a shorthand all our own since almost the beginning. We just get each other. This part, this physical part, feels like a natural extension of what we've always been. It was inevitable.

 _It was bound to happen some time._

Donna's words come floating back to me now of all times. I never asked her what she meant by that, but I do know that it floored me in that moment. I was so worried that she'd be angry that I'd kissed her in the middle of my hotel room, and my only thought was to apologize and take the blame for it before she could get upset and leave me again. All she said was that it was bound to happen some time. Even now, I'm still not sure what it means. Has she thought about all this over the years? I mean, I guess she must have to think kissing each other at some point was a given.

Her hips rotate in small, quick circles, pulling me out of my reverie. Her head is still thrown back; her fingers dig into me, holding on for dear life. I tighten my hold on her and pull her closer, latching onto one of her nipples. I suck at it hard, making her gasp. I use my teeth to scrape over it, then my tongue to soothe away any hurts. "Josh," she whimpers, and the sound goes straight to my erection. I can actually feel myself twitching inside of her. I move to her other nipple, giving that one the same attention. Her thighs tighten against my sides in response. I feel her sitting up, but I hold her breast in my mouth desperately. While I've always loved breasts, and have also always been very enthusiastic about them while with a woman, I don't know that I've ever been _this_ enthralled with them. But they're Donna's breasts, so they're the most amazing ones I've ever seen. I'm sure it's my imagination, but they even _taste_ incredible. I never want to let them go.

She starts to thrust up and down frantically, and though I'm sad I can no longer manage to hold onto her nipple, the show she's putting on is unbelievable. Her eyes are screwed shut, her mouth is open as she breathes heavily. I don't know how I'm holding on right now. Judging by the tingling I can feel down in my toes, I don't think I can delay the inevitable much longer. I manage to get my hand between us, my thumb brushing over her. Her eyes fly open as her entire body tenses. She blinks at me a few times; I don't know if she's even breathing. I know I'm not. She breaks out of her stupor, grinding against my touch.

"Oh, my God," she gasps. "Oh, my _God!_ Oh, yes. Yes yes yes yes yes. Oh, Josh. Josh, right there. Right _there!_ "

Christ, she's yelling. My only goal was to get her to say my name again and now she's loud enough that, if a guest in a neighboring room were so inclined, they could call management on us. I'm hoping everyone is understanding enough to get that not only has it been a really long time since I had sex, but I'm currently in the throes of passion with the most amazing woman in the world.

She grabs my face, yanking me toward her, and kisses me. It's sloppy—neither of us are doing a great job of actually breathing, and with all the movement, it's hard to keep our mouths together—and she won't stop moaning long enough for us to actually kiss. I'm certainly not complaining about that.

"Josh," she breathes. "Oh, God. Josh—I'm going—I'm about— _ohhhhhhh!_ " And just like that, she's writhing and clenching around me, her eyes locked on mine. Her hands grab onto my back, her fingers digging into my skin. Her face twists, on that border between agony and ecstasy, and her eyes shut. "Ahhhhhh!" she shrieks. Her inner muscles clamp down on me. She falls out of rhythm, moving unevenly, and I push my thumb down on her bundle of nerves. Her head drops to my neck suddenly, and I try to hold onto her as she rides me. "Josh," I can hear her whisper. "Josh, Josh, Josh ohhhhh yes."

This is truly unbelievable. I just made Donna come. Fairly spectacularly, it sounds like. Her body is still twitching, though much slower now. I keep rubbing my thumb against her, waiting for her to tell me to stop, but she continues to push against it, her entire body jerking in response.

"You," she moans, her hips still pushing urgently against mine. "You."

I grunt in response—that won't be tough to obey. The pit of my stomach is tingling, my thigh muscles tense and bunched. She lifts her head up and pushes her hand through my hair, giving me a tremulous smile, and I'm suddenly done. The orgasm bursts through me, completely overwhelming my senses. I feel like every part of me is exploding. I move my hand from between us, grabbing onto her hips as I completely erupt. " _Donna!_ " I yell, the only truly coherent word I've said in some time now. She answers by clenching her muscles around me, pulling at me, milking me for all she's worth. I bury my face against her chest, groaning so loudly that anyone who slept through her orgasm is sure be disturbed by mine.

I twitch within her, my movements already slow and lethargic. I wrap my arms around her waist as I come back to earth, trying to catch my breath. I feel like I've run a marathon, except it was, you know, fun. I can say, without a doubt, this was the best sex I've ever had. I can't begin to guess if it was like that for her, but I think it'll be some time before my legs are steady enough to walk.

She lifts my head, smiling at me lazily before pressing her mouth to mine. We kiss slowly, our hands stroking over each other leisurely, exploring every bit we can reach. She makes a disgruntled noise and shifts, lifting herself a bit. With a little more effort, she pulls herself off my lap, and I already mourn the loss of the feel of her around me. I feel completely bereft. She moans a little and stretches, falling back onto the bed. I take that as a good sign. I pull off the condom, grimacing as I dump it in the trash can. I roll back toward her, draping my arm over her stomach. I nuzzle the side of her face, and she turns her head, kissing me.

Despite how exhausted I feel, and that she seems equally as wiped, there's a lot of force behind the kiss. Her hand slides up to my hair, keeping me in place. I slide my hand off her stomach, running it up and down her side, tracing over the side of breast and then down to her hip, holding on tightly. I don't want this to be done. I feel like it happened so fast. Maybe for a first time, after all these years, I lasted longer than anyone could have guessed, but I hate the idea that tonight was a letdown for her in any way at all. She seems all right—actually, she seems better than all right—but I doubt the actual act of sex took ten minutes. Was that enough for her? She orgasmed…I'm assuming. That seemed pretty real. Aw, hell…I don't want to imagine that she faked it. I wish my body didn't feel like jelly right now; I'd make extra sure that she was satisfied. Maybe later, after I've gotten a little sleep.

…Will she want to do this again? Is it just tonight? I can't imagine that would be the case, not after she told me she'd never had a campaign fling. She didn't give the impression that she was now looking for a fling, but I don't know that she's looking for something more…permanent. Am I? Should I be worrying about this now?

The bed shifts and I manage to open one eye, wondering if I'd fallen asleep. I honestly couldn't say at this point. Donna's sitting up, looking around the room. I reach out and touch my fingertips to her back, making her jump a little.

"What's up?" I manage to mumble.

"Cold," she answers, her voice soft.

I sit up a little, blindly pushing at the blankets, kind of amazed that we did all that on top of the covers. I manage to push them down a little, shifting my hips until I can get myself covered. I hold the sheet up, watching as Donna nearly folds herself in half, her long legs sliding under. Her toes brush against my legs, making me shiver a little. I flop down onto my back, unable to keep myself even partially upright for another moment. She settles down beside me, tucking the blankets under her arms. I look over at her, blinking sleepily. I watch her profile again, feeling like I've somehow come full circle from just a little earlier. She looks the same but…somehow different. She's more beautiful than she ever has been.

With a herculean effort, I turn onto my side. I stretch my arm across her again, pressing my lips to her shoulder. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat, but her hand comes up to rest on my arm, her fingers plucking at the hair there. She turns her head, leaning in toward me. I kiss her slowly, reveling in the sensation despite my exhaustion. She sighs into my mouth, kissing me a few more times before she turns onto her side. She holds onto my arm, keeping it wrapped over her stomach. I slide a little closer to her, pressing myself to her back. My body relaxes, my eyes falling shut. Everything already feels hazy and surreal, like I've had another vivid sex dream about Donna and it's already slipping away.

I drift off to sleep, hoping that if this is a dream, I never wake up.

* * *

Thanks for reading—I'll start posting the other side of this story soonish. I'm still trying to get my mojo back. I appreciate any and all suggestions, and I'm still marinating about the ones I've received.


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